The Bargain
by Mula Sawala
Summary: The Berserker chief, Oswald the Agreeable, wanted peace more than any other ruler in the archipelago. Oswald's son, Hiccup, was his mirror image, if not in stature, then in temperament. Stoick the Vast was equally blessed, with a son named Dagur, who matched his father's prowess in battle, if not his father's cool head. (AU where Hiccup is Oswald's son, and Dagur is Stoick's son.)
1. Prologue

\- See end for Notes -

PROLOGUE

 _'There, but for the grace of Thor, go I.'_ thought Hiccup as he sailed away. The young Viking stood with his hands on the ship's guard rails, looking back on Berk. The island of the Hairy Hooligans had been as inhospitable as ever. The people were surly and unwelcoming, the terrain rocky, and unable to sustain more than the hardiest crops. And the _weather_. Hiccup shivered just remembering it.

Seeing Hiccup shiver, Oswald the Agreeable placed a hand on his son's shoulder. Hiccup leaned into the warm touch. His father was larger than life to Hiccup, both literally and figuratively. Oswald was a mountain of a man, huge in every direction. But it was with his hands that Hiccup had his earliest memories. Large square palms, and fingers as rough as leather.

"Did young Dagur give you too much trouble, lad?" Oswald asked gently. Hiccup had been tasked with keeping Dagur out of trouble while treaty negotiations were ongoing. The Berserker chief knew that it hadn't been an easy time for Hiccup. There was a reason Stoick's son was called Dagur the Deranged.

Hiccup shook his head, but to himself, wondered how much was too much. How much longer would being older than the Hairy Hooligan heir would keep Hiccup safe from him? Already, he was taller than Hiccup. Bigger. Stronger.

The heir to the Berserker tribe felt his face heat up in recollection. While Dagur had been his usual self, taunting Hiccup, trying to drown him as they swam ( _haha ha_ ), Hiccup had been preoccupied, noticing how the other boy had... grown up. Swimming at the river, as was their "tradition", had been a terrifying affair for Hiccup, an exercise in trying to keep his wandering eyes to himself.

Hiccup was not older by much, only a few years. But at their age, a few years was a lot. It was enough of an age gap that, the few summers that Dagur had spent at the Berserker's Keep, Dagur had dedicated to trying to get the best of Hiccup, to prove himself against the older boy. In a way, the two of them had grown up together, in the same way all the heirs of the different tribes grew up together. But it seemed that the last few years had been kinder to Dagur than they had been to Hiccup. While Hiccup had also grown, there was just... _more_ of Dagur, somehow. Just standing next to him made Hiccup feel small and inadequate (not to mention other things, as well).

Hiccup pet the Terrible Terror on his other shoulder to distract himself, to calm his nerves. Bringing Sharpshot to the peace treaty signings had proven futile, and Hiccup wondered if bringing Toothless would have been better. A Night Fury, unholy offspring of Lightning and Death, would have been more impressive, in Hiccup's opinion. But his father had said that such a fearsome dragon could have been seen as a sign of aggression, maybe started another war. That was the last thing either of them wanted.

At the council, Hiccup had made his case to the elders and chiefs. He'd tried as hard as he could, making argument after argument, stating reasons and facts, bringing up his extensive research. But in the end, it had been futile. Oswald had needed to step in. Hiccup still couldn't understand how his father had done it, but the Berserker chief had wrangled a promise from all the tribes to stop killing the dragons.

To help train Hiccup to be chief one day, at the helm of one of the largest and most powerful Viking tribes, Hiccup thought he and his sister Heather should be the ones making the rounds to the other Tribes. In any case, Hiccup thought he would need to be there in order to ease the process of making peace with the Dragons, and make sure that no one got hurt while the Vikings and the dragons learned to live together.

Oswald, on the other hand, had other ideas. It was still a sore subject for them, that someone else would be making the rounds to the other tribes. But Hiccup had come to accept his father's decision.

In this way, Hiccup was his father's son. More than anything else, he just wanted the killing to stop.

Notes

Basically, it's an AU where Hiccup is Oswald the Agreeable's son, and Dagur is Stoick's son.

So, this fic has been rattling around my head for years now, and I didn't think I'd ever do anything with it. But the last movie is coming out soon, and I wanted to dip my toe into the fandom again.

I thought it would be fun to explore what might have happened if both chiefs had gotten a son that was (superficially) more like their fathers than the sons were in canon.

Please also note that some of the dragons will be speaking in this fic. I say 'some' because there are many species of dragon will make an appearance at some point in this fic, and expecting them all to speak would be a little bit like expecting all mammals to speak.

This probably won't get updated very often, so please be patient with me. I might update the fic on my Ao3 account a little earlier, but not by much. I'm writing under the same name (MulaSaWala) over there as well. :)

And finally, please take note of the fact that the pairings for this work are Eventual Dagur/Hiccup, Astrid/Heather. They happen much later, i just don't want there to be any surprises about what my endgame is. The other characters, such as the other teens who live on Berk, will be major characters in the story also, but will probably appear closer to Chapter 4 or Chapter 5. Some of the characters from the books will appear as well, but well into the story. I haven't hammered down the specifics yet, but they will most likely appear well after Chapter 10.


	2. Chapter One

At the heart of the vast Berserker territory were the Berserker Islands, the place Hiccup called home. It was a collection of fertile islands surrounded by unwelcoming waters, and mountains that rose up from the sea. All of the mountains were riddled with gold, if you believed old wives' tales. Hiccup was of the opinion that the golden rays of the sun, gently lighting up the snow-covered peaks, were just as precious. The view from his quarters was spectacular. There were few things more beautiful to him than watching the sun set over the mountains.

"Still sulking, brother?" Heather's voice came from behind Hiccup. He sighed, without turning to face her.

The problem with having siblings was that they knew you much too well. Born only a year apart, Hiccup and Heather had spent much of their lives with each other underfoot. There were no other children in the keep, which made being the heirs of the Berserker chief a lonely affair. Not literally, of course. Should Hiccup or Heather shout at this very moment, a veritable phalanx of guards and attendants would come running into the room. But all of them were their father's subjects, Hiccup and Heather's own subjects in the future, and the relationship that the two of them had with these people reflected that.

Heather and Hiccup had spent their childhoods in a world filled with elders and guards and attendants. The two of them rattled around the big, empty keep surrounded by adults, but without much supervision. As a result, they had clung to each other, had been mostly inseparable growing up. They knew each other perhaps better than they knew themselves. Which was probably why Heather had sought Hiccup out today, despite the fact that he'd made it clear that he would prefer to be alone.

Without waiting for a reply, Heather jumped onto her brother's bed. She waved her arms and legs, making a mess out of his carefully folded sheets. Hiccup studiously ignored her.

"I don't know what you thought would happen, Hiccup. This is exactly what we expected. _Of course_ most of the tribes don't want dragons around." Heather said from the bed. That merited a response.

"We expected no such thing," Hiccup objected, frowning. On his part, at least, that was true. When his teacher, Harold the Wise, had started making his way to the different tribes, as had been agreed upon at the council, Hiccup had awaited eagerly for news. There were so many new discoveries waiting to be made, now that the humans and the dragons were at peace.

But, no, as it turned out, that hadn't been the case. Upon learning that the dragons could be sent elsewhere, to live out their lives far from where people lived, and that humans could avoid these islands in turn, most of the tribes had wanted just that. Hiccup had received missive after missive from his teacher with little more than the coordinates to where the dragons had been moved.

 _/The dragons likely prefer this as well/_ was Toothless' contribution to the conversation from his own bed (If you could call his large, flat piece of stone a bed). He rolled over and promptly fell back to sleep. Hiccup shot the dragon an annoyed look. He couldn't speak much Dragonese yet, but he got the gist, and the Night Fury's tone suggested that he was Not Helping.

Hiccup scowled at both of them (resisting the childish urge to stick out his tongue), returning his attention to the view outside his window. One of the highest points on this island, Hiccup could see almost everything. He watched small lights, like fireflies, begin flickering to life as night approached.


	3. Chapter Two

\- see end for notes -

* * *

CHAPTER TWO

* * *

Toothless yawned and stretched, coming fully awake. The room was dark, lit only by the moonlight streaming in from the open window. On the bed, Toothless could see that the siblings had fallen asleep. It had probably been a tiring day for both of them.

Toothless watched them for a moment, before moving on. Night Furies weren't strictly nocturnal, but he still preferred to do his rounds under the cover of darkness. He called Sharpshot over softly, felt the little dragon land on his back, and began to move. Before he left, Toothless lit the wood in the fireplace, as well as the torches that sat in the sconced that lined the walls. Moments later, the room was bright and warm. Between the company and the comforting surroundings, returning to Hiccup's quarters would be something he could look forward to.

Toothless and Sharpshot made their way down the halls, lighting the the torches that sat in the wall sconces as they did so. As one of the few large dragons given free reign of keep, Toothless had taken to keeping an eye on what he thought of as his territory. The dragons could still smell a little nervousness from the guards as they passed, but Toothless was happy to note that the edge of fear in their scents had stopped a long time ago.

Battle's End, as the Berserkers' fortress was known, had many guards to keep it secure. Although, technically, it could be done with less than half the number Oswald currently employed. The structure was a sprawling mess, hewn directly from the side of a mountain. Over generations, the chiefs of the Berserker tribe had added rooms and structures as they saw fit. Rooms and Halls and places to store items that would become part of Berserker history. And the mountainside was littered with secret passageways and escape routes, although few beyond the Berserker Chief and his family knew about them.

Toothless stopped in his patrols when a horn sounded in the distance, too far yet for any human in the castle to hear, but plenty loud enough for the Night Fury. Toothless and Sharpshot gave each other a considering look before splitting up. Toothless to wake up Hiccup and Heather, Sharpshot to investigate the source of the sound.

Something was Happening.

* * *

NOTES

* * *

So, we saw a little of it in the previous chapter, but here, we can clearly see that the dragons have thoughts that are at least as complex as humans. Some of them, like Toothless and Sharpshot, speak Dragonese, and understand when humans speak.

So far, Hiccup has been the only human shown to understand Dragonese. Heather understands a little less than Hiccup, but I would say that she's better than Hiccup when it comes to understanding dragons on an instinctual level. This is because while Hiccup was inside reading and studying to be chief, Heather was outside running around in nature.

Based on subtext, there's at least a third character who can understand Dragonese: Harold the Wise. He's not a main character, but I may write some side stories about him later on, when I've better established this Alternate Universe.

Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter Three

\- see end for notes -

* * *

CHAPTER THREE

* * *

Dagur hadn't known before tonight that there was more than one meeting room in Battle's End. It wasn't as large as the one that the teen was more accustomed to. The other one was larger, built on a grander scale. Dagur thought that you could fit Berk's main hall into it, with room to spare for a couple of houses.

The one they were currently in was much smaller, but not lesser. It was still richly appointed with superfluous wall sconces that lit the room brightly, and a ceiling so high that it disappeared into darkness. There were windows, when glass was a rare commodity from the Roman Empire, and thick furs on every chair. Dagur nicked one of the thick pelts every chance he got. More to see Hiccup's annoyed face when it reappeared on Berk, than anything else, because the heir to the Hairy Hooligans was perfectly capable of hunting his own furs, thank you very much.

Still, the thought of having one of Hiccup's furs, one he may have chosen from Trader Johann himself, perhaps sat on, _slept on_ … Dagur quickly redirected his thoughts.

The room was dominated by a large table, where the three of them sat at the head. The two chiefs stared at each other across the table, at an impasse.

On one side was Oswald the Agreeable, chief of the Berserker Tribe. As much as Dagur disagreed with how Oswald ran the Berserkers, there was no denying that having Oswald at the helm of the largest fleet of ships this side of the Roman Empire had led to a prosperous time for all the Viking tribes. Blond haired and blue eyed, Oswald stood with his head and shoulders above most people.

On the other hand was Stoick the Vast. The chief of the Hairy Hooligans was perhaps a touch smaller in terms of height and weight, but fiercer for it, in Dagur's opinion. The Hairy Hooligans lived on the island of Berk, near the northern edge of the Viking archipelago. Life was much harsher there, the winters colder, the nights longer. The Berserker Islands were extremely fertile, a verdant green where Berk was gray and rocky. Dagur privately thought that, had his father been the one born as the chief of the Berserkers, the tribe would be larger than the Roman Empire by now, not _stagnating_ as it currently was, under a coward like Oswald.

Despite their differences, however, the two chiefs were good friends, allies more often than not. In fact, Dagur could not remember a single significant disagreement between the two of them, except for this business with the dragons.

Dagur sat at his fathers right hand, just observing. The heir to the Hairy Hooligans was present at the meeting only as an exhibit, something Dagur quite resented. _Hiccup_ was allowed to participate speak at the council of elders. What blatant favoritism.

When the Berserker heir had shown up on Berk with a dragon as pet, Dagur had wanted one for himself, naturally. Not long after all the chiefs and delegates had left, Dagur had gone into the forests of Berk to find a Monstrous Nightmare. In his mind, a dragon bigger than a Terrible Terror (not to be confused with a Common Brown) was better to have.A bigger dragon was a dragon he could actually _ride_ , obviously, Dagur didn't know why Hiccup hadn't thought of that).

Except, it hadn't exactly gone according to plan. The Nightmare had almost taken an eye and an arm before Astrid was able to intervene. She was quick witted as always, creating a distraction, then managing to drag his sorry butt back to Berk when the dragon had lost interest. It was a good thing he'd brought his best friend along, or the beast may have finished him off for good. Dagur didn't tell anyone, but he'd had a few nightmares because of that incident, something he was embarrassed by in the light of day. But on some nights, his dreams were consumed fire and pain and the fear of disappointing his father with a pathetic death.

Dagur was knocked out of his reverie when Stoick placed a hand heavily against the tabletop. A lesser man would have banged his fist against it, but the chief of Berk had more control than that. Having more self-control didn't mean that he was any less frustrated, though.

"We have to kill them, Oswald, they're simply too dangerous to leave walking around the countryside," Stoick said with finality.

 _'Look what they've done to my son,'_ Stoick didn't say, but Dagur heard him all the same. Dagur felt the Berserker chief's eyes land on him, and the teen met his gaze, staring back with his one good eye. The other was still bandaged over, still hurt, but healing quite nicely. Gothi had said (written down on the ground, as was her way) that he was lucky not to be blind in that eye. Dagur hadn't felt lucky, with his face still bruised and his arm in a sling.

Dagur hadn't told his father that he'd gone seeking out the dragon, but it almost seemed as if Oswald knew anyway.

It was Oswald who looked away first. Dagur tried not to feel to smug about that, and mostly failed. Sighing deeply, the Berserker chief turned back to Stoick.

"Can you not wait? Surely you've heard of the good work that my right hand man has done,"

"There are dozens, maybe a hundred tribes in the archipelago," Stoick replied with frustration. "It will be years before Harold can visit us all."

"He started in the south," Dagur pointed out, eager to be part of the conversation. "We live in the far north, so we'll be one of the last he'll visit."

Oswald nodded in acknowledgement. His gaze drifted to the fire, clearly thinking. Stoick took that moment to turn to Dagur.

 _'Don't speak unless spoken to,'_ his eyes said. Dagur resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

" I know you had to stop at other islands on the way here. How do they feel?" Oswald asked after a moment or two.

"the same. I'm just the first of many, Oswald. I managed to spread the word that I would speak to you on everyone's behalf, which should buy you some time, but you cannot continue to ignore our concerns."

Oswald remained silent, pensive.

Stoick went on, clearly frustrated. "What I don't understand why you're being so unreasonable about this, Oswald. Can we not continue as we have for centuries? At least until your man arrives. They are a danger to the people of Berk, Oswald, and my people come first."

"If you want to start hurting dragons again, you're going to have to go through us first," came a voice.

The two Hairy Hooligans turned to the door, expecting Hiccup to come bursting through, but no. A large black shape dropped down from the rafters above them, landing behind Oswald. Stoick and Dagur had their weapons drawn before the shape touched the floor.

It was Hiccup and Heather, on top of a dragon. Stoick was shocked. From the last council, it had been implied by Oswald that the smaller dragons could be kept as pets, and the larger ones relocated. Stoick hadn't even considered that the dragons could be ridden. There was a part of him that still couldn't believe it. He couldn't take his eyes off the clearly dangerous beast, but out of the corner of his eye, Stoick saw Oswald… pinching the bridge of his nose?

Dagur on the other hand, had a much less measured (and much more volatile) response. He leapt over the table. It's only a half formed thought, more instinct than anything else, but he remembered his own recent encounter with a dragon, and he wanted to drag the two fools away from the deadly animal they were so cavalierly sitting on top of. Were Hiccup and Heather not aware of the fact that they were currently on top of a Night Fury, unholy offspring of lightning and _death itself_?

As the young Hooligan moved towards them, the night fury snarled, preparing to blast fire in Dagur's face.

* * *

NOTES

* * *

One of the issues I have with Race to the Edge is how they portrayed Dagur in the later seasons. In the first few seasons, he was shown as consistently staying one step ahead of Hiccup when it comes to strategy. Many times, he only lost through carelessness, or because Hiccup had superior firepower (dragons). To me, this means that he's far from stupid. Maybe a bit of an unconventional thinker (Like Hiccup, actually), but certainly smart enough to hold his own. Even in the episode where he reunites with Heather, he was able to see Viggo's trap before Hiccup did.

Anyway, in this chapter, even though he's a few years younger than Hiccup, Dagur has also begun to accompany Stoick on chief business to learn. It's up for debate why he started at an earlier age than Hiccup did. One option is that Dagur's just an eager beaver, and basically badgered Stoick into it. Another is that Oswald was overprotective of his children and didn't let Hiccup come along until he was older than usual (on account of him being small for his age). In either case, Stoick really only brought him along this time to keep him out of trouble.

Just as a reminder, Battle's End is the name of the Berserker chief's castle / fortress. If anyone finds something confusing, or just wants to ask questions, my inbox is open :D

Also, there's a Discord Server for HTTYD fans! the code is fTB7DGx


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